I Felt It Shelter To Speak To

The Poet Lights The Light And Fades Away. But The Light Goes On And On.

Hope . . . Never Stops At All.

A Little Madness In The Spring Is Wholesome Even For The King, But God Be With The Clown, Who Ponders This Tremendous Scene-- This Whole Experiment In Green, As If It Were His Own!

At Least To Pray Is Left - Is Left Oh Jesus - In The Air - I Know Not Which Thy Chamber Is - I'm Knocking Everywhere.

When He Tells Us About His Father, We Distrust Him. When He Shows Us His Home, We Turn Away, But When He Confides To Us That He Is Acquainted With Grief, We Listen, For That Also Is An Acquaintance Of Our Own.